After meticulously preparing a dish, a chef wipes his hands slowly, standing at a distance to quietly watch the diners savor it. After committing a crime, a murderer slips back into the crowd, secretly returning to the scene of the crime to lightly touch the police tape hanging before him. Li Zhuiyuan did not know which one he was—or perhaps, he was neither.
Because right now, he was still far from being able to derive emotional value from other people.
Yet faintly, in the deepest recesses of his heart, he could touch a faint flame—feeble, yet truly burning. Much like the ease and immersion he felt when painting portraits for the dead-flippers at home, right now, he was equally captivated.
He had inherited Li Lan's illness—an emotional desert. But even a desert could grow a cactus. And his barren emotions could still ripple under the influence of the dead-flippers.
A discovery like this was difficult to explain to outsiders; not only would they fail to understand, they would think he had gone mad. That did not matter. Ah Li would understand anyway.
Li Zhuiyuan decided that once he saw the girl in Shancheng, he would tell her all about these feelings in detail, letting her share the joy of his improving condition. These were whispered secrets meant only for the two of them.
At this moment, the gazes of the dead-flippers were entirely fixed on Li Zhuiyuan. The boy knew they could see him.
Yet he felt no fear. The frost receding from beneath his and Runsheng's feet earlier had already signaled their attitude. For now at least, they still retained a shred of clarity, knowing who was helping them exact their revenge.
As for what changes they would undergo once the vengeance was complete, or whether they would still be able to keep things straight, to be honest, even Li Zhuiyuan himself held little hope.
The Qi clan ancestors had left behind a countermeasure for their descendants, but they could never have anticipated that beneath this village would one day lie so many violently slain corpses. Once he altered the feng shui layout here, turning blessings into curses, and that curse resonated with this massive throng of dead-flippers, even more unpredictable transformations were bound to occur.
A traditional dead-flipper would dissolve once its revenge was done, but here, the difficulty of dissolving would increase drastically.
Fortunately, he had already told Runsheng to destroy the exit, so these dead-flippers would not be able to break out and wreak havoc on the surrounding countryside.
The only lurking hazard was probably that if some skilled practitioner happened along in the future, saw the picturesque scenery and magnificent aura, and sat cross-legged to walk the yin path just for kicks, their fate would undoubtedly be tragic beyond belief.
Even Li Zhuiyuan only dared to come here today, at this very moment, to savor this feast of retribution. After today, he too would not dare walk the yin path into this place again.
The dead-flippers did not move. His earlier "Please enter" seemed not to have stirred them. Li Zhuiyuan could only urge them once more:
"Hurry up. The food's getting cold."
The restaurant was open for business—and it was a buffet.
At last, the dead-flippers accepted Li Zhuiyuan's invitation and filed in, one after another.
From inside instantly came ear-piercing shrieks of terror and screaming, punctuated by the crack of a gunshot. Li Zhuiyuan straightened his clothes—a superfluous gesture while walking the yin path.
Yet just as Grandpa Shan had taught Runsheng not to eat the skin of sweet potatoes, life naturally required a touch of ritual. Walking back into the ancestral hall felt like stepping into a demon's lair.
Li Zhuiyuan walked with composure, moving through the carnage.
He had visited this ancestral hall several times, both in reality and within this spatial seam, but every time he returned, it offered a different sensation, like the distinct seasons of a scenic landscape.
*Splat...*
A puddle of red and white splattered across the vamp of his shoe.
Li Zhuiyuan stopped, instinctively moving to bend down and wipe it away, only to suddenly realize that none of this could actually soil him. He lifted his foot; the surface of his shoe remained spotless.
He walked into the main hall and sat down on a wooden bench, facing the courtyard. It was not over yet—far from it.
The flames of vengeance needed to burn for as long as possible, so that the light they cast could offer the victims at least a sliver of solace. If these butchers whose hands dripped with blood died too cleanly, it would truly be letting them off too easy.
Resting his elbows on his thighs and cupping his chin in his palms, Li Zhuiyuan watched in quiet contemplation.
Despairing wails, shrill pleas for mercy, broken shrieks—the myriad sounds intertwined into an unexpected harmony, like a symphony conducted by a master. The scene before him was clamorous, yet he was reluctant to make a sound, wary of disturbing the performance unfolding on stage.
A faint smile curled at the corners of the boy's lips. A pity there were no "outsiders" here.
Otherwise, if someone were to walk to the entrance of the ancestral hall and peer inside, seeing a smiling boy seated in the distant center against a twisted backdrop of gore, it would have been a breathtaking composition. Time slipped by, minute by minute. There was no distinct cadence of prelude, buildup, climax, and resolution—only a sustained crescendo from start to abrupt finish.
Just then, a person—or more precisely, half a person—crawled up before the boy. It was the village chief. Behind him stretched a long trail of blood, strewn with intestines and various offal.
By all rights, he should have died long ago, yet he was being "kept alive." His hands still had plenty of strength, clawing incessantly at the floor tiles, his will to survive intact. Targets of vengeance like this were often more entertaining; one was all the more reluctant to let them die in an instant, wanting instead to chew through them segment by segment like sugarcane, wringing out every last drop of juice. Beside him, herding the village chief along like walking a dog, was Zhu Yang.
The village chief had already crawled past, yet Zhu Yang remained rooted to the spot, looking at the boy.
Perplexed, Li Zhuiyuan pointed behind him. Zhu Yang did not budge. Instead, he placed both hands against his own belly and slowly pulled it open. Like a double door swinging apart, his chest unfolded, and the books stuffed inside spilled across the floor.
Some were relatively intact, while others had long since reduced to a sodden pulp.
The quality of these mimeographed pirated books was truly wretched. Once soaked in water, the ink had dyed the inside of Zhu Yang's cavity pitch-black, as though smeared with a layer of chimney soot. Li Zhuiyuan looked at him, puzzled, but soon understood.
Between the ribs inside Zhu Yang's chest, another book was wedged.
This book was remarkably well-preserved. Even after being submerged in water, it still gleamed with a soothing, lustrous texture. Li Zhuiyuan found that texture very familiar.
At home, he had a book made of the exact same material—the very Buddha skin paper that Wei Zhengdao loved to use...
Zhu Yang reached in and pulled the book free, his ribs shuddering slightly in the process. He held the book out to the boy.
Across the cover ran a line of characters: *Annals of the Qi Clan*.
At first glance, the title sounded much like the renowned historical work, *Master Lü's Spring and Autumn Annals*.
Yet Li Zhuiyuan knew full well that whether it was the Qi clan ancestors' heritage of constructing imperial tombs or their subsequent seclusion here to study this spatial seam, any excerpt of their family chronicles recorded within would hold immense value.
However, he was currently walking the yin path. He could make contact, but he could not alter physical objects.
He had been somewhat dissatisfied with the position of the bench beneath him, yet he had no way to move it, and it happened to be the only bench still standing in the whole place—all the others had fallen over. With no alternative, he could only make do. In short, the boy could not even perform an action as simple as turning a page.
He felt a pang of regret; perhaps he should not have been in such a hurry to have Runsheng destroy the exit.
Of course, this regret was merely a passing sentiment. Prior to this, he could never have taken the risk of letting the dead-flippers escape.
Zhu Yang did not go after the village chief again. Perhaps his turn had ended, and the remainder was meant to be passed to the other dead-flippers in a relay. Every one of them had a craving for revenge, but the perpetrators were limited in number, so the perpetrators had to be treated like many-legged centipedes, shared out for everyone's amusement.
Zhu Yang sat down in front of Li Zhuiyuan and laid the book across his lap.
Li Zhuiyuan could lower his head and read along with him.
Zhu Yang loved to read books. Perhaps the lost *Annals of the Qi Clan* had lain deep in the subterranean pool, where he, upon turning into a dead-flipper, had happened to retrieve it.
Without such a twist of fate, this book would likely never have seen the light of day again. In truth, being moved from the depths of the pool to this place had completely sealed off any possibility of it ever returning to the outside world.
Zhu Yang turned to the first page. It was covered entirely in multicolored dots of varying sizes. He turned another page, and it was still densely packed with dots of diverse colors and dimensions.
Li Zhuiyuan widened his eyes. He knew this was his only chance to read this book, so he pushed himself to commit the contents of every page to memory. He knew his memory was not exceptional, nothing compared to the two former classmates who genuinely possessed photographic recall.
Thus, in the intervals between Zhu Yang's page turns, he could only sweep his eyes over them a few extra times to ensure he retained them.
As for deciphering the contents—like he had done with the pebble mosaics on the ancestral hall walls—there was no hurry. He would have plenty of time later.
The process of turning the pages ended quickly. After reaching the final page, Li Zhuiyuan looked up and closed his eyes, rapidly reviewing all the preceding pages in his mind.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Zhu Yang's body beginning to tremble. The fingernails on the hand holding the book were growing long and black. Even the exposed ribs of his open chest were pitted with corrosive pockmarks, and thick ribbons of black pus dripped down like ink.
He was gradually transforming, step by step losing all trace of himself.
In fact, midway through the latter half of the book, Li Zhuiyuan had already noticed the other's hand shaking, as though desperately suppressing something. Now that the book was finished, Zhu Yang no longer needed to rein in the ferocious instincts that were already bursting within his body.
By this time, the feast of retribution had finally drawn toward its close. Yet the dead-flippers were, by and large, left unsatisfied.
Li Zhuiyuan knew he could not linger here any longer. He gauged the time—less than half an hour had passed, but it was close. He had wanted to conduct a body count to help report the number of villagers who had supposedly "absconded to evade punishment" to the police.
Yet there was a chunk here, a severed piece there, scattered all across the ancestral hall, with several segments hanging from the ceiling beams. It was utterly impossible to take inventory.
Forget it. Time to go.
Before leaving, Li Zhuiyuan said to Zhu Yang in front of him, "I'll remit a page-turning fee to your family."
Zhu Yang's eyes, which had already turned crimson, suddenly cleared for a fleeting instant upon hearing those words. Brief though it was, he had understood.
One matter had to be kept separate from another. Zhu Yang had given the four of them a lift to have company to bolster his courage, and Brother Liangliang had not only bought cigarettes and snacks but also paid for the meal.
The corpses had spontaneously formed a pontoon bridge underwater to guide the four of them out of the pitch-black pool, and Li Zhuiyuan had awakened them so they could claim their own vengeance.
All of the above balanced out cleanly—neither owed the other anything. Only this page-turning just now was a personal favor Li Zhuiyuan had incurred, and it had to be repaid.
The surrounding dead-flippers silently converged toward Li Zhuiyuan, following a ferocious instinct awakening within them.
"Roar!"
Zhu Yang let out a low growl. Two rows of ribs thrust through his flesh, bracing in front of him. His icy gaze swept over the surroundings, forcing the closing dead-flippers to retreat two paces in unison.
Li Zhuiyuan could hardly imagine what this place would develop into in the future. Would trapping them all here turn it into a new gu-rearing pit?
What would it ultimately breed?
Fortunately, they could not get out.
Li Zhuiyuan closed his eyes and ended his yin walk.
When he opened them, he saw Runsheng about to pinch his hand.
"Brother, I'm awake."
"Hold on, let me wake Xiaoyuan first." Runsheng pinched down anyway.
"Hiss... Brother, I'm already awake."
"Ah, oh, heheh." Runsheng scratched his head in embarrassment.
"Brother Runsheng, let's go."
"Okay."
Runsheng bent down, gesturing for the boy to climb onto his back.
"Brother, I can walk on my own."
"You're tired. I'm full."
Li Zhuiyuan reached up and wiped away the dried blood at the corner of his eyes, then ultimately climbed onto Runsheng's back.
They did not pass through the village, taking the mountain path around it instead.
By the time they reached the mountaintop, it was noon. The bright sunshine had dispelled the damp chill of the mountains. Heading down from the ridge and circling back to the main road, they saw police cars and trucks speeding toward them.
From the back seat of the second police car, Tan Wenbin and Xue Liangliang leaned out, waving their arms in excitement. Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng climbed into the police car as well. Without sirens wailing, the vehicles pulled up before the village entrance, and the officers rushed in.
The anticipated fierce resistance and difficult arrests never materialized, because the majority of the village's able-bodied men and women seemed to have "absconded to evade punishment."
Many of the victims' bodies could not be found, but the village was littered with an overwhelming amount of criminal evidence in nearly every household, proving that every family had been complicit. There was even a ravine specifically used for burying and disposing of stolen vehicles.
Zhu Yang's truck had not yet been dismantled or disposed of. Xue Liangliang and the others climbed up to retrieve their luggage, while Li Zhuiyuan took a letter Zhu Yang had written to his wife and daughter, which bore an address and a phone number for his village.
Although the process of handling the case was rife with bizarre anomalies, it was undeniably a major case. Yet against the broader backdrop of the nationwide crackdown on highway robbery and banditry at the time, it was merely a slightly larger splash.
Perhaps many years later, when people heard of "highway bandits," they would feel bewildered and detached, finding it hard to believe such things could truly have happened in reality.
Or perhaps some curious souls might dig up dusty case files and, upon coming across this incident, spin endless conspiracy theories over its inexplicable details.
Still, that belonged to the distant future.
As mere informants reporting the crime, Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin were not detained for long.
Presumably because they knew Xiaoyuan would do things out of the ordinary, they had been deliberate when filing their report. They claimed only that the four of them had happened to be wandering in the nearby woods that night and witnessed Zhu Yang being ambushed and murdered on the large truck, omitting all mention of entering the village.
Upon learning their destination, the police station originally offered to send a car to drive all four directly to Shancheng.
Xue Liangliang declined, saying he did not want to trouble the police. He agreed only to be driven to the next city, where they purchased new tickets and boarded a train. This time it was hard seats, but fortunately, the journey was not too long.
"Shancheng! Passengers arriving in Shancheng, please check your belongings and get ready to disembark! Wake up, Shancheng!"
The conductor's shout shattered many people's sweet dreams. This was not the terminus, so half the passengers wiped their chins and stood up to retrieve luggage, while the other half adjusted their postures—slumping forward or leaning back—and went right back to sleep.
The four walked out of the railway station, looking somewhat haggard. Anyone forced to endure such a harrowing ordeal in the middle of a journey would find it hard to look spirited.
Fortunately, grave though the event had been, they all adjusted their mindsets quickly. After all, they were people who had "seen the world."
Outside the station exit, a crowd of older women held up signs touting their small inns, hustling for guests; some even reached out boldly to grab people's luggage. Xue Liangliang chose the only auntie who did not shout about offering "special services."
He chose well. Though small, the inn was clean. The proprietor assigned them a dormitory room with four small beds pushed side by side. Setting down their bags, the four took turns bathing and then collapsed into bed, falling fast asleep.
Li Zhuiyuan was a light sleeper. He woke up after barely three hours and could not drift off again, so he sat on the bed staring blankly at the curtains as the morning sun slowly brightened them. Once the others woke up one by one, they checked out of the room and went downstairs to a breakfast shop to eat.
The shopkeeper and his wife initially asked in Chongqing dialect what they wanted to eat, which Tan Wenbin and Runsheng, walking in front, could not understand.
Seeing that they were from out of town, the proprietress slowed her speech, pronouncing each word slowly one by one. Though it was still thick Chongqing dialect, she probably imagined it was impeccable standard Mandarin.
Xue Liangliang stepped forward and laughed. "She's asking how many liang you want. Boss lady, two bowls of chaoshou, three liang each, in clear broth."
"Right you are. What about you two?"
Tan Wenbin: "Red broth chaoshou. Three jin."
Runsheng: "Chongqing spicy noodles. Five jin."
The proprietress: "..."
In the end, she made it for them anyway.
Tan Wenbin got the largest bowl in the shop, while Runsheng was served from a washbasin. Touching the rim of the basin, Runsheng felt a cozy familiarity, as if he were back home.
Li Zhuiyuan could not finish his three liang of chaoshou, so Xue Liangliang scooped some into his own bowl.
Tan Wenbin and Runsheng ate until sweat poured down their faces. In the end, Runsheng even drank the soup down to the dregs. It was only because the morning rush had passed and few patrons remained that they did not attract a crowd of onlookers.
After eating, Xue Liangliang hailed a taxi and took the four of them to a hotel in Guanyinqiao, a partner hotel of his new work unit that also functioned as a guesthouse. They had arrived late last night and gone straight to sleep, so only now could everyone finally appreciate the charm of Shancheng.
It was a city of immense charm. It possessed modern architecture and amenities alongside remnants of past eras; multiple layers of history blended harmoniously here, crowned by its undulating, hilly terrain to create a character unique to Shancheng.
Li Zhuiyuan felt there was hardly any need to seek out tourist attractions; simply riding in a car through the city was an exquisite pleasure in itself.
The new hotel was of far higher quality. Xue Liangliang took out his ID and letters of introduction to register. He expensed one room to the public budget and paid for a second out of pocket.
The rooms were on the eighth floor, accessible by elevator. It was Runsheng's first time riding an elevator; such an imposing figure, standing inside, looked cramped and awkward.
Once in the rooms, Xue Liangliang said he needed to report to his new unit first to complete the onboarding procedures, promising to take everyone on a proper, detailed tour of the sights the next day. Tan Wenbin and Runsheng planned to stroll around the neighborhood of the hotel.
In the hotel room, Li Zhuiyuan dialed the phone number Liu Yumei had given him. A male voice answered, asked for his hotel address, and then invited Li Zhuiyuan to head downstairs, saying a car was already waiting.
This took Li Zhuiyuan by surprise. That fast?
Arriving in the lobby, he indeed saw a brand-new black sedan parked outside. The chauffeur, wearing white gloves, stepped out and approached him politely. "Pardon me, are you Young Master Li Zhuiyuan?"
"My name is Li Zhuiyuan, but I'm no young master."
"Please get in, sir."
The driver opened the door for him. After Li Zhuiyuan sat inside, he turned his head and saw a stylishly dressed woman with permed orange waves hurrying out with a handbag, her high heels clacking sharply against the ground.
"What's the rush? Why are you hurrying me? Weren't we supposed to go at dinner? Why did you suddenly insist I come down right now?"
Then her gaze fell upon the boy in the back seat, and she snapped, "And who is he? Why is he in my car?"
The driver replied neither servile nor haughty, "Young Master Li is Master's honored guest. Madam, Master instructed that we depart for Chunyuan immediately. If you do not wish to go, you may stay."
"You..."
The woman was furious, but swallowed her anger.
The driver opened the front passenger door for her. Seeing this, she pouted indignantly, but climbed in nonetheless.
Only then did Li Zhuiyuan realize that the car had originally been prepared for this woman, only to be redirected on short notice to pick him up because of his phone call.
Chunyuan was located on a mountain; exactly which mountain, Li Zhuiyuan did not know, for Shancheng was all mountains.
Passing the security booth and driving inside, Li Zhuiyuan observed the surroundings. It appeared to be a Chinese-style luxury private club, generally reserved for the owner's family or for entertaining distinguished guests, closed to the public.
After getting out of the car, an elegantly dressed middle-aged woman came forward to lead the way.
The woman from the passenger seat got out first. Nervously straightening her hair and collar, she shed all her earlier arrogance and called out timidly, "Sister-in-law."
The middle-aged woman ignored her. Seeing Li Zhuiyuan step out, she broke into a smile, walked over, and took his hand. "Young Master Zhuiyuan, please follow me."
Li Zhuiyuan nodded, not bothering to correct the form of address again.
The young woman followed for a few steps, but the middle-aged woman glanced back and glared at her.
"Ah... Sister-in-law, I—can't I come?" the woman asked, pointing to herself.
The middle-aged woman shook her head, then turned back with a gentle smile and continued leading the boy inside, leaving the young woman behind, stomping her feet in frustration.
After passing along a covered walkway and wending through a lotus pond, Li Zhuiyuan finally caught sight of familiar faces in a pavilion at the deepest end.
Liu Yumei sat on a stone stool, with a white-haired elder standing nearby brewing tea.
In another corner of the pavilion sat the girl he had not seen in days, watching the lotus blossoms alone.
Then, framed amidst the lotus flowers, she saw the person she had missed.
The girl walked over of her own accord. Knowing her habits, the noble lady let go of the boy's hand and quietly stepped back.
Li Zhuiyuan took Ah Li's hand. Ah Li looked at him, furrowing her brows and pouting.
Liu Yumei, who had looked placid just a moment before, cast a cursory glance over the boy and immediately grew solemn, raising her voice:
"You brat, ruining your own body again! Are you looking to go blind again?!"
The white-haired elder beside her finished brewing tea and sat down, watching in amazement as the girl showed such intimacy toward another person, even expressing real emotion.
*Splash!*
Liu Yumei dumped the freshly poured tea from her cup onto the ground.
Understanding the hint, the old man immediately rose, bowed respectfully, and exited the pavilion.
Liu Yumei glared back at the boy and demanded, "Out with it. What did you do this time? Look at how drained you are, worrying our Ah Li like this."
Li Zhuiyuan answered, "Just bad luck on the road. We ran into a whole village of highway bandits."
"And then?"
"We called the police."
Liu Yumei frowned slightly. She knew the boy had omitted the crucial part, but she could hardly press him further. After all, she would be returning to live at Li Sanjiang's house later on, and the boy would return there too; as long as the two of them had to go back to that place, the subtle battle of wits would have to continue.
Li Zhuiyuan brought his lips to Ah Li's ear and whispered, "Those bandits tried to harm us. That very night, I went and took care of every last one of them."
The girl clutched his hand, swinging it happily, dimples appearing in her smile.
Chapter 62